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Skrantsi (Avis Calvariam)
Origin The dragon's nest sat abandoned, its sad tale hinted at with nothing more than remnants of broken eggshells and the drying traces of blood and yolk. Bloodstone found the carnage during a solo hunt, just in time to see the ancient blooming strangler she'd been tracking slither into the nearby bushes. The area reeked with the serpent's odor, its shed leaves joining the rest of the litter on the ground, and it didn't take much guessing to figure the fate of the eggs. Bloodstone fired after the retreating strangler. Engorged on its feast, it stood no chance of outpacing her and met its swift end at her claws. A telling lump still remained in the dead snake's throat so Bloodstone tore it out. The shell, riddled with spiderweb cracks, promised little hope of hatching, but still Bloodstone forgot her hunt and bundled the fractured egg back to The Song Bird. Scochi was the only one she told, and only out of necessity. The pearlcatcher agreed not to breathe a word to anyone and carefully helped Bloodstone repair the foundling's shell with the nacre usually reserved for recording memories. Neither dragon offered any explanation when Bloodstone took her place in the nesting quarters, and she gave no notice to the rumors that rose in whispers among her clanmates. Let them speculate, let them guess. None of it mattered. Meeting the Clan The collective bemusement among the crew only increased when Bloodstone reemerged weeks later with a newly hatched Fae cradled gently in her arms. The clan watched with wary fascination as the hardened fighter transformed into a protective mother, cooing and fussing over her unexplained offspring. Life and Relations in the Clan Skrantsi grew into a much gentler soul than his mother, quiet yet eager to make friends wherever there were friends to be made. A weak dragon, his patchy, discolored scales were always softer than they should be so the thorough wraps and coverings he wore were less a fashion statement and more a necessity for his own protection. Whether this was a genetic defect or some side effect of his egg being crushed would be a mystery never solved. His behavior closer to that of a spiral, the normally expressive frills of a Fae went largely unused in his body language. His friend, Borderline, teased the benefit of having such a long neck and tail or he would never be able to coil around the beams and masts of the ship, or tie knots with the best of them. He worked with Borderline in caring for the on-board flock of streaks, cleaning their roost and providing them with fresh food and water each day. Rarely seen without his own snow streak by his side, he loved to watch the graceful birds in flight. Aside from Borderline, his best friend in the clan was the silent spiral, Nameless. The first dragon to ever really take notice of the standoffish dragon, he spent countless hours tailing him as a fledgling. When he asked his mother why Nameless didn't speak and she answered that, "He just doesn't," he promptly decided there had to be another way to communicate. Not long after, with some creative use of bits of colored string, the two friends developed a sort of rudimentary sign language which they continued to expand on for the rest of their lives. Plague Days Hatched during the ship's second year in the Wasteland, Skrantsi had nothing to miss. He heard his elders' yarns of the Plateau, but with nothing to compare them to they remained nothing more than mystifying fairy tales. He shared none of the longing to return. Disease, survival, and even death, were simply facts of life for the young Fae. His calm acceptance when his clan mates and friends died unsettled some of the crew, but he was not as hardened by the losses as they feared. Rather, he adopted the belief that the nigh guaranteed shortness of life only warranted more warmth and kindness. The Cloudsong How embarrassing for a dragon to become airsick. How could no one warn him that the airship's long anticipated flight would be so turbulent? Flying past the Twisting Crescendo was a special kind of hell and poor Skrantsi spent entirely too much time clinging to the railing and trying to keep his lunch. After the ship finally docked in The Cloudsong, the nausea subsided only a little. It took him much longer than the rest to adjust to the constant tilt and sway of the airborne landscape. Some glorious refuge! His clan mates may have oversold the place, ever so slightly. It was only once his innards at last accepted their new fate that he was able to appreciate the new home fully.